SCENE SEVEN

A few feet away from her, she can hear her captor on the phone. She's only ever heard his voice while he's on the phone with someone else. She has no idea who he is. Or why he's keeping her here.

Not that she even has the strength to ask him.

He's kept her drugged, injecting her with something so horrifying that it reminds her of the time that Derek Moore kept her drugged up in the basement of her home, tormenting her and planning to have her sent back to rehab so she couldn't tell anyone he was plotting to kill her husband.

But with his back turned, and the door cracked to let in some of the cool air... he would never notice if she crawled out of the warehouse and...

But she barely has the strength to open her eyelids.

"We've got a serious problem. I don't think she's woken up in the past few hours... she's pregnant, and I'm worried about..."

She is pregnant. She's carrying a child. An innocent child that deserves to be brought into this world. And then there's Vincent... and Akilah... she's already been away from them before. She can't leave them again.

But she doesn't have the strength…

Or does she...


EMERALD PLAZA HOTEL

"Stop worrying about whether or not the bitch is pregnant," Herald snaps, almost hissing into the phone.

"But Boss..."

"You goddamn idiot! You're going to kill her anyway, what the hell does it even —"

Herald is interrupted as the door to the suite flies open. Denise bustles back inside, look frazzled. "I forgot my damn umbrella. I'd forget my own head if it wasn't attached. Is that the rental car company?"

"Yes," Herald says quickly. "Just having a bit of difficulty..."

"Oh, did you tell them it's the name I had when I was married to Sean? Or thought I was, at least? Tell them the name is Denise Price, that should take care of it."


OUTSKIRTS OF MARQUETTE COVE

Depeche doesn't see it coming as Leslie grabs his leg, pulling him to the ground. The cell phone tumbles from his hands, skirting across the floor. Leslie musters all the strength she can to bite his arm, sending a burst of paint through his body.

"Ow, you stupid bitch!" Depeche cries.

Leslie grabs the phone, hoping she can dial 911 before he's able to recover. Lying on her side on the warehouse floor, she pushes against the ground and hoists herself up. She raises the phone to her face, she hears a voice she recognizes on the other end. "Tell them the name is Denise Price, that should take care of it."

"Denise?" Leslie gasps, nearly dropping the phone in horror.

"Put down the phone!"

Before she's able to react, she notices the steel barrel of his gun first. And by the time she's able to open her lips to respond to Depeche's warning, he pulls the trigger.

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